How To Defeat Underpants Gnomes
by Fate Harbor
Summary: Something's different about Tweek. Craig notices, but can't figure why Tweek is so happy all of the sudden. Token's theory doesn't sit well with him. At all. CREEK Fluff, Craig X Tweek. Read and Review!


**Disclaimer: does not belong to me!**

Okay, so this story constitutes a few firsts for me: first South Park fanfiction, first one-shot and first time writing in first person. Reviews would be greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

**XXXXXXXXXX**

I know Tweek Tweak better than the kid knows himself. Hell, Tweek-watching is one of my favorite hobbies, right up there with Red Racer and baiting Stan and his faggy friends. Every twitch and stutter is like a fucking eye-magnet, distracting me from class, friends, everything…not that that's hard, but the blonde spaz is just so god-damned _fascinating_, I'm amazed anyone can do anything but watch him. I could fill volumes with Tweek trivia, but I'd have to stop watching him long enough to do it and well…fuck that.

I know when he drinks coffee from a mug, he always grips it by the rim and not the handle. And before drinking, he runs the tip of his pink tongue up the side to lap up the drops that have spilled over (if he knew how many times I've jerked off to that image alone, he'd have an aneurism). The only music that calms him down is, of all things, hardcore jazz. The chaos and dissonance of the notes, the abrupt taking up and ending of riffs, the clashing of instruments in fucked-up noise fusion brings every paranoid thought and conspiracy theory in his head to a grinding halt. Personally, I can't stand it, but I'll listen to it all day just to see that oh-so-rare expression of serenity on his face. I know that when he starts to shake apart in a full-fledged panic attack, he needs to be held against someone tight enough to bruise. As much as I hate seeing him fall apart like that, a tiny part of me loves that my arms are the only one's he wants to be in. No one else can get near him when he's like that and he'll only let me absorb the quakes of his small, trembling body (I've jerked off to that before, too). I know he's a whiz at math and history, but hates English. I know his handwriting looks exactly like that of a stroke victim and he can't draw worth shit. He likes rain and snow, but doesn't like summer. Animals freak him out and whenever he's within twenty feet of one, he starts yelling about rabies and being mauled to death and _oh sweet Jesus, Craig, it's teeth will tear out my jugular and I'll bleed to death and you'll slip in my blood and crack your head open and then it will get you too! GAH! _So. Freaking. Adorable.

So, yeah…I know him pretty well. Which is why I immediately noticed when something changed. It started on Monday. I waited for him outside the doors of the school, just like every day. I was leaning against the brick wall of the high school, cigarette smoke trailing out of my mouth. I flipped off the pussy Goth kid with the red streak in his hair when he asked to bum a cigarette and not a minute later, flipped off a group of giggling girls stealing glances at me. I mean, yeah, I'm hot shit, but do they have to be so god-damned annoying about it? I was just starting to get pissed off, wondering where the hell Tweek was, when he finally rounded the corner and made his way over to me. The second I saw him, I pushed off from my casual lean against the wall and tensed. Something was different and for me, who likes things normal and boring, anything different is bad. Few people would have noticed and even fewer would have cared, but I saw it instantly. The ever-present bags under his eyes were nearly gone, now looking more like smeared eye-liner than day-old bruises. He was humming, something he only did when extraordinarily happy or watching coffee percolate. His untamed, golden hair was as wild as ever, but not molded into the usual separated chunks caused by him fisting and pulling at it. And Jesus fucking Christ…his shirt was buttoned correctly. Let me say that shit again. His shirt. Buttoned. Correctly. The cigarette that had been loosely dangling from my lips took a nose dive into the snow as my jaw fell open in shock.

"H-hey, Craig." he chirped happily, practically skipping up to me. If not for him desperately clutching his thermos of coffee and stuttering slightly, I would have been convinced he was a clone or a body snatcher or something equally ridiculous and paranoid.

Shit, he's rubbing off on me.

"What the fuck's got you so happy? It's Monday, for Christ sakes." I muttered back, fishing out another cigarette and lighting up. His reaction made my eyes narrow in suspicion.

He _blushed_. He squirmed in place; not his habitual twitching, but a nervous and uncomfortable shifting. Without meeting my intense gaze, he finally replied.

"N-nothing! Gah! Ngh!" He disintegrated into incoherent ramblings before frantically unscrewing the lid of his thermos and drinking deeply. Once sufficiently drugged with caffeine, his usual trembling took over and he started walking to the doors.

"Ready f-for class? We sh-should probably get going. Don't – _arg_ – want to be l-late." he said. I followed him in and it was well into second period before I realized that he hadn't really answered my question.

Things only got weirder as the week went on. The bags under his eyes completely went away. He even stopped ranting about underpants gnomes! I used to hear about them a dozen times a day and now, not even a – _GAH_! – about them. It's creeping me the fuck out! Normally he'd be so tired in the mornings that he'd pass out from exhaustion and wouldn't fully wake up until at least third period. Now he has the same glazed, bored look as the rest of us in biology and political science instead of being blissfully unconscious for both. He smiles more, which normally I wouldn't mind, but that was _my_ smile. It was the shy, sweet smile that used to be reserved for just me, but now he gives it to every undeserving bastard that looks his way. I absolutely hated it.

Okay, so I didn't hate that he was happy. And I didn't hate that he was finally sleeping. But I hated that I didn't know _why_ and I really hated the attention my best friend was getting from all corners. Everyone from Bebe to Damien felt the need to comment on it. Some were as innocent as, "Well, golly, Tweek, you're looking well!" courtesy of Butters. Or "About time you stopped hitting the crack-pipe, spaz." which came from that fatass, Cartman. But some of the attention was simply not tolerated. Everyone in the school seemed to finally wake up and take notice that my Tweek was nothing short of stunning. Those fucking posers were a little late to the game. _I_ noticed from the very beginning and his hotness was always like my little secret, but that's totally ruined now that half the student body wants in his pants.

And Tweek really is fucking beautiful. His hair is naturally highlighted in varying tones of blonde. It's messy in an effortless, just-thoroughly-fucked sort of way that can't help but give a man fantasies about waking up next to him. His coffee brown eyes are always wide with inexperience and watchful attention. They stand out gorgeously, now more than ever, and are framed by ridiculously long lashes that brush against his cheeks when he lowers his eyes shyly. People started to notice his small, lithe frame and his fair, unblemished skin. His innocence and vulnerability were more effective than bedroom eyes and cleavage when it came to seducing our peers. His helplessness made each and every one of them want to be the one he turned to for comfort. His bashful hesitance when speaking or moving made them want to wrap their arms around him and shelter him from the world.

But that was _my_ job.

That slut Kenny even did a double take when Tweek's smile was directed at him, his eyes lighting up in perverse interest. That light quickly died when he saw me glaring at him from behind Tweek and flipping him the bird, instead morphing into a knowing glint. I was throwing glares and middle fingers left and right…at girls, guys, _teachers_…anyone with an interested eye on my Tweek. I've always been protective of him, so when I started walking with an arm thrown over his shoulder or a firm, guiding hand on the small of his back more often than not, he thought nothing of it. The fact that he was too concerned that the FBI was capturing his every move with satellite imagery to notice the actual attention he was getting was at once frustrating as hell and part of his charm.

Shit, even _Clyde_ noticed the change in Tweek and when that oblivious fuck notices something, it has to be as obvious as a tattoo on the forehead. And the same thing happened whenever Tweek was questioned about his transformation. He squirmed in his seat, rubbing his thighs together anxiously. He giggled nervously and without meeting anyone's eyes, would mumble some cop-out response or collapse into incomprehensible stutters, all with a bright blush on his face.

It's safe to say that I was pissed the fuck off and it only got worse as the week wore on. People were making a point to steer clear of me and I started smoking almost a pack a day just to burn off some of my anxiety. I was putting off a major 'don't fuck with me' vibe and, at the same time, just itching for someone to try. And Token's comment…that was the kicker.

"Dude, what's up with Tweek?" Clyde asked, coming up to my locker. I ignored him, rooting around for my chemistry book and Token, whose locker is next to mine, did the same. "He's being all…weird."

"Fuck, man, I don't know. Ask him." I replied, flipping him off casually.

"But he won't tell me!" Clyde whined. "He tells you everything, dude, you must know something."

"Well, I don't." I snapped, glaring at him harshly. I didn't fucking appreciate being reminded that, _for once_, I didn't know something about Tweek.

"Isn't it obvious?" Token spoke up, slamming his locker shut and turning to us with a smirk.

"Would Clyde look like a confused moron right now if it was?" I drawled.

"Fuck you, Craig!" Clyde yelled.

"Suck my balls, fucktard." I flipped Clyde off.

"Jesus, no wonder you guys haven't noticed. You're too busy trying to crawl up each other's asses."

"Noticed what?" Clyde asked.

"Think about it. Tweek's more relaxed. He's happier. He gets nervous and giggly whenever we ask him what's going on. He blushes..." Token trailed off, motioning with his hands for us to follow his train of thought. When it was clear neither of us was getting it, he deflated and rolled his eyes. "Christ, you guys, he's getting laid!"

I honestly don't remember punching Token. Before I knew what was happening, he was sprawled out on the floor in front of me with blood gushing out of his nose and screaming, "Craig, what the fuck, man!" Stunned at my actions, I paused for a moment before flipping him off angrily and storming down the halls.

The further away I got, the more enraged I became. Tweek was _mine_, had been for years! The fact that I'd been a pussy little bitch about the situation and neglected to inform Tweek of that didn't make it any less true. I was his best friend! I was the one who protected him! I was the one who knew everything about him! The mere thought of someone else kissing him and tasting him was more than I could stand. To think of someone else's hands running along his smooth, slightly toned torso or gripping his ass cheeks as his legs wrapped around them…or Tweek's nails biting into someone else's skin and him moaning with overwhelming pleasure…or how his body would tremble and he would gasp as he was entered slowly, inch by aching inch…

Great. Fucking perfect. Now I'm pissed off _and_ hard. I finally reached the doors of the school and slammed them open, quickly making my way to the smoker's corner and growling at the freshman punk already standing there to get lost. I allowed myself a cruel sneer when he ran away and then tore through my jacket with absolutely no grace whatsoever, intent on a cigarette. Lighting up and taking a slow, deep drag, I started to relax. I admitted to myself that I have no reason to be mad at Tweek, as much as it kills me. If he's sleeping with someone, that's my fucking fault.

I've been in love with him for two years. I denied it for the first six months, fought it for another three and avoided him for all two days before realizing I couldn't stay the fuck away. I could have said something. I could have felt him out. See, for as much as I know about Tweek, there's some pretty important stuff that we've never talked about. Like if he's even into guys. I've never heard him talk about a having crush on anyone and since he's nervous and spastic around everyone, it's not obvious if he does. A dude doesn't exactly go up to his best friend of eight years and say, "Hey, do you like cock? If so, I happen to have one…"

Still, I can admit that I've handled this like a pussy. And now I may have lost him.

"Jesus, man, a-are you okay?" came Tweek's anxious voice. I turned my head, seeing him approach cautiously as though I might lash out at him at any moment. Fuck, like I could ever hurt him. "T-Token's seriously p-pissed, dude. W-What – _GAH!_ – what happened?"

He finally came to a stop right in front of me, nervously extending his thermos to me. Not being the best with words, it's the only way he knew how to comfort someone. Not being the best with words either, I accepted the gesture without comment, only a slight nod in thanks. I took a gulp, my eyes never leaving his. Christ, he looked like a fucking angel out here in the snow. Cheeks pink from the cold, hair being whipped around by the biting wind, shaking a little more than usual from the temperature. I extended an arm and waved him over, smiling slightly as he immediately curled into my side. I handed the thermos back and took another drag of my cigarette. Now, how to approach this in a way that won't freak him out or –

"Are you fucking somebody?" I blurted out. Fuck. Smooth, Craig, real smooth.

"W-WHAT?" he yelped, jumping out of my arms. I frowned and pulled him back in, feeling him shake even worse than before. "What m-makes you – I mean, why would – Jesus Christ, Craig, _pressure_ – I-I –"

"Calm down, Tweekers. Just answer the question."

"No, dude!" he screeched, tugging at his hair. I smiled a bit – there was my Tweek. "W-what makes you think I'm f-fuc – _Christ, this is WAY too much pressure_!"

Even though I was relieved beyond belief, I just shrugged. "Token said the reason you've been so happy is 'cause you're getting laid."

"T-that's not why!" he shouted, before clapping a hand over his mouth. His eyes went wide, as if begging me not to ask.

Did I mention I'm kind of an asshole? "Why then?" I questioned bluntly, in a tone of voice he knew all too well: the one that said 'you're _so_ not getting out of this.'

"I-I –" he stuttered, his eyes shifting nervously and his fingers tugging at his buttons.

"Tweek. You're gonna tell me." I stated plainly, my attention completely focused on him.

He gently extracted himself from my arms, but still stood close. "S-swear you won't tell?" he whispered, glancing around us.

"I swear."

The pressure seemed to build up in his tiny body, making him vibrate and twitch violently until he finally exploded. "I found a way to get rid of the underpants gnomes!" he scream-whispered excitedly. "I can f-finally sleep and I'm not s-so fucking terrified a-all the time!"

"How?" I asked in monotone, though frankly I was surprised. He'd been plagued by them as long as I'd known him.

Glancing around once more and making sure we were alone, he moved in closer to me. Blushing, he lifted his shirt up to his waist and pulled one side of his jeans down past his hip bone. All I saw was pale skin and my mouth went dry at the implication. "I-I don't know – _ngh – _why I never thought of it b-before." he confessed.

"You stopped wearing underwear." I stated flatly, though the words carried a loaded calm. "So the blushing and the squirming…"

He flushed adorably. "Yeah, man. The d-denim is kind of rough and I like the w-way it…yeah."

Holy. Fucking. God. _My _Tweek. No underwear. Getting off on the feel of the rough fabric against his dick. I couldn't have helped myself if I tried. I couldn't have stopped myself if I wanted to. The thought of him standing right next to me, his cock just a zipper away…

I looked at him blankly for half a second before _pouncing_ on the poor boy. He shrieked at the sudden move but the sound was absorbed as my mouth attacked his. He froze against me, but I was moving so frantically against him, he couldn't help but give in to it. His lips moved so shyly, so _innocently_, against mine that I let out a harsh groan into his mouth. I lightly bit his bottom lip and he whimpered, parting his lips and flicking the tip of his tongue out teasingly. I slipped inside his mouth, tasting coffee and cream. His tongue tangled with mine, our breath coming out in violent, visible puffs in the cold air. I pushed him roughly against the brick wall, my hips driving into his.

He ripped his lips from mine and cried out in pleasure, burying his face into my shoulder as a spasm rocked through his body. Grinning, I ground my hard-on against his again, fucking _delighted_ to get the same response. Gripping the back of his thighs, I lifted him until his legs wrapped around my waist. I kissed him again, fiercely and desperately. He gave as good as he got and rocked against me just as fervently, his tongue moving in time with the thrusting and rutting of our hips. I nipped and licked my way down the curve of his jaw and to his neck, my hot breath ghosting across his skin.

"God, I want you so bad, Tweek." I groaned. "For so fucking long."

"C-Craig…" he moaned, eyes closed and those gorgeous lashes fanned out across his cheeks.

My cock had never been so hard in my life and none of my fantasies even came _close_ to this. I'd taken him in every dirty, perverted way I could think of inside my head, but dry-humping him fully clothed in below freezing temperatures somehow put them all to shame. The movement of our hips was nothing short of hysterical now; his moans and whimpers had escalated to cries and shouts. I was so close and he was right on the edge. I kissed him deeply again before moving to his ear.

"I love you. I just – fuck, I love the hell out of you." I whispered, my voice strained and rough.

"Craig! Craig!" he was practically sobbing into my shoulder – begging me, praising me, wanting me, loving me. I bucked forcefully against him over and over until he finally shouted his release in the form of _my _name. That alone made me follow him over the edge, white light flashing behind my eyes and my knees giving way until I was kneeling in the snow with him in my lap. His head lifted from my shoulder in a daze and he lazily dragged his lips up my neck until they found mine again. The kiss was slow and deep and _fuck_, I love this boy.

"I meant it. I meant every fucking word of it." I said against his lips, before kissing him hard as if willing him to believe it.

"I n-never thought…you're j-just such a _guy_, I thought y-you'd hate me, s-stop being my friend i-if I told you…" he muttered, eyes squeezed shut. I gripped his hips tighter, silently telling him to go on. Opening his eyes and looking straight into me, he did. "I l-love you, too. H-have for…f-forever, I think."

I grinned at him and he returned it with the smile meant only for me, sweet and adoring. I kissed him deeply, just breathing him in. We slowly untangled ourselves and stood. I took his hand, tugging him toward the parking lot.

"Come on, we're going to my house." I smirked, already half-hard from the thought of round two.

"O-okay." he blushed, smiling to himself.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

I know Tweek Tweak better than he knows himself. I know he loves when I talk dirty to him. I know he frowns in his sleep when I get out of bed in the middle of the night. I know every contour of his body. I've mapped every sensitive spot of his skin, every freckle and every scar. I know the sounds he makes in bed and look he gets in his eye when he wants me.

Oh yeah…one more thing: I know he goes commando. And _he _knows it drives me absolutely fucking wild.


End file.
